This Love Will Start a Fire
by I Am The Cactapus
Summary: Instead of ending up with Peeta, Katniss married Gale. Unfortunately, their relationship is far from perfect... Rated T for mentions of sex and minor language. Renamed from 'The Wrong Choice'. Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns all rights to The Hunger Games and characters.
1. Prologue

"Katniss Everdeen, do you take Gale Hawthorne as your lawfully wedded husband?" The pastor asked me. I looked at the gorgeous man across from me, then out at the crowd. I scanned the familiar and not so familiar faces of friends, family, and Capitol freaks come to see this moment. One in particular caught my eye. It was, of course, that of Peeta Mellark. His eyes were watery, but he smiled weakly and gave me a thumbs up anyway. I looked away quickly before I could start thinking about him… and us… and… well, never mind. I turned back to my future and said the essential words.

"I do."

**Hi everybody! This is just a prologue to get you excited for the story; all the real chapters will be longer. We'll probably update once a week, but maybe more often (If you're lucky). So strap in for a crazy emotional rollercoaster ride, cuz it all goes downhill from here.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Apparently the little prologue I posted piqued your interest. So here's some more. This one's pretty short too, but I promise they will get longer. This one is pretty much just to set the scene. Enjoy!**

I sit down by the hearth, the heat painting my front as I heard the door swing open and the heavy footsteps belonging to the man I knew best. Gale.

"Evening, Catnip," he drops his bag next to the couch with a _clang_ and runs behind me, lifting me off the ground.

I shriek as my feet leave the wooden floor, pressing my back against his chest. "Gale! Put me down!"

He drops me suddenly. I feel his surprise at my reaction to him coming home from a long day at the mines.

Gale spins me around, locking his eyes onto mine. "You all right?"

I pry myself from his arms and answer with a snap. "Yeah. I'm fine."

I barely see the look of confusion on his face that follows me as I stalk across the room to the kitchen.

"You don't seem _fine_," his deep voice bounces off of the walls.

"Oh really? Now you care?" I face him with my arms crossed.

"The hell's that supposed to mean? Of course I care! You're my wife!"

I roll my eyes. "Do you care because it's about me or because it's your job as my husband to care?"

"Katniss! Don't pull that crap with me. I care because I love you. I shouldn't have to explain myself!" I hear anger creep into his voice.

"When was the last time you told me that?" I narrow my eyes at him.

"Do I really need to tell you that every day? You know I love you. Don't you?" He adds the last part hesitantly, as though he's not quite as sure of himself anymore.

I sigh, looking at my arms. "Yeah. I know. I'm sorry. It's been a long day and I'm tired. I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

Keeping my gaze on my arms, I hear him walk to me, taking me into an embrace, keeping my feet planted on the floor this time.

He mutters into my hair. "I understand. It's okay. Just know that I'll always love you, no matter what."

I nod in response, wrapping my arms half-heartedly around his waist, even though it _isn't _ okay.

This is the beginning of the end.


	3. Chapter 2

**It's been a week, so here's installment #3! After this things really start to pick up. I promise.**

Months pass. The fights continue. I go to town one day. Gale's at work again and I need to get out of our house. But then I'm walking past the bakery and I see Peeta through the open door for the first time in a long time. And I smile. He waves and I actually stop to talk.

"Hi." I say, somewhat awkward and completely aware that I've been subconsciously avoiding him since that last look at the wedding. He disappeared afterwards, not staying for the party. He smiles and turns back to whatever delicious concoction he's creating. But I kind of want to talk to him now.

"So… How's life? Tell me, how's your family?" I try. He actually stops icing his cake and looks at me.

"Life's the same as it's always been. As for family, I lost the last of them when Twelve was bombed. You know that." He answers me. I hear the pain in his voice and wince slightly.

"Right. Sorry. Forgot." I trail off, not wanting to keep him if he's not interested in talking to me. I start to walk away and hear him call out.

"Wait," I start to turn in time to see him squeeze the icing bag harder than he should, almost like he's frustrated. "I still want to talk. I'm sorry, I was just distracted." He lays down the icing and leans against the counter, concealing his hands but not before I notice the tight fists he's curled them into. I'm confused for a moment, but then I remember a time long before this one when he was programmed to kill me. Did he remember it too? I thought that was over, but maybe not.

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked him, slightly concerned now.

"Um…" He takes a deep breath, then plunges on. "You're married to Gale now. Real or not real?" I smile, reminiscing for a second before returning bitterly to now.

"Real," I mutter, looking away. I'm sure he heard me though. I saw the shadow pass over his face. I think mine did the same thing.

"Why don't you sound happy? You guys were two lovebirds last I saw." I look up and see the ice in his warm blue eyes. It catches me off guard, scarily reminding me of Gale.

"I have to go," I quickly say. "Gale will be home soon. I have to make dinner."

I can feel his eyes follow me across the square, almost able to hear what he's thinking. He knows something's wrong. He always knows. But he'll let me go. Again.


	4. Chapter 3

As I push the front door open, I see Gale's bag already on the floor. He already had himself situated. This could be an issue.

The door slams shut behind me as I take off my shoes. "Hi, Gale."

"Hi," he says, an edge in his voice.

I shoot him a weird look, walking over to the kitchen to start dinner. "What's wrong? Bad day at work?"

"No, it went well. But, uh . . . where were you? I came home and got a little worried when I didn't see you." he runs a hand through his hair.

"Oh, you got a bit worried? Nice to see you care now. That's a change."

"Yes, Katniss I care! Stop bringing this up. What has gotten into you?" he stands up to face me.

"What's gotten into me? It seems like you don't care anymore, that's what! I have the right to leave this cage of a house and talk to people in town," I flip my bangs out of my face, agitated.

"I never said you had to stay home all the time. All I'm saying is that I was concerned when you weren't home like you usually are. Who'd you see in town?"

"Does it matter?" My response comes out snippier than planned and for once, I don't care.

"Of course not. Can't a man have a conversation with his wife about what happened during the day?" Gale holds his hands up, perplexed and almost hopeless.

My eyes flitter to the pot of water I put on the stove. I swallow, not knowing how to tell him the truth without turning this into an issue blown entirely out of proportion.

"Peeta," I eventually say, moving my eyes up to see his face. "I walked past the bakery today and decided to see him."

He tries to contain the annoyance in his voice as he replies, sitting in a chair with his back to the fire he started. "The baker boy? You haven't spoken to him in months. I didn't think you cared to talk to him anymore."

"Well, Gale," I drop the ladle that was previously in my right hand onto the counter. "The two of us went through two Games together and a war, so yes we keep in touch even though our relationship romantically didn't work out. I have the right to keep up with old friends."

" 'Friend', that's what you call him. Just a friend. Nothing more. No significant attachment."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, even though I already know his reply. I thought Gale was over this petty jealousy that plagued him last year since we are now married. He has no fear of me cheating on him. He knows I'm faithful. He knows Peeta would never encourage me to cheat. Why does he feel threatened all of a sudden?

Gale sighs, clomping his boot on the floor. "You're not going to go running to him if I don't give you what you want?"

I look at him with a sudden need to get defensive. "Why- why would I go running to him? As a married couple we're supposed to work out issues together. As a couple. Going to another person would just add to the problems."

"That's not what I mean!" his voice rises in aggravation, causing me to flinch. He attempts to calm himself, but fails. "I don't want you running off to have him relax you after you wake up from nightmares in the middle of the night. I'm in that bed with you. Not him."

I shake my head, appalled at his need to control me like a child. "I'm sorry if my Capitol-caused nightmares disturb your sleep, then. That's something completely out of my control. If you can't deal with it, then sleep alone. Or find a way to help me cope with them like-." I stop myself from saying _like Peeta did_. But I already said too much. He knew what I meant.

He swallows some anger, standing to walk to the opposite side of the kitchen counter to face me. I watch him shake his head and speak to me in a dangerous tone. "This is exactly what I meant, Katniss. They're nightmares. Frightening nightmares. Sleeping with someone you love should be enough to chase them away."

"They're not just your usual nightmares! I can't explain them to someone who never experienced one."

"Meaning what exactly?" he crosses his arms across his chest.

"Meaning," I take a deep breath, composing myself. "I relive parts of the Games in some. They're caused _by _the Games. I see Rue or Cato or Wiress die in front of me again. In last night's I was burned in front of Twelve's Justice Building as Snow shouted: 'Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!'. I can't escape them, Gale. They come and they plague me every night. I can't control them."

"But the Games are over, Katniss. Snow is gone. Coin is gone. Peeta is . . ." he trails off momentarily before exhaling. "Gone. Everything is different. Things have changed and they're better than they were before. Just forget them. Forget everything that happened because of them!"

I can't stop a look of disbelief from passing over me. I practically screech.

"Forget them! Gale, it's impossible to forget them! Do you know what it's like to be thrown into a death pit with no allies, no plan, and no idea if the last thing you'll see is a knife or bloody face of a teenager? Being forced into situations where every single moral and value you've acquired just goes flying out the window?"

"That's war, Katniss!" his voice booms in my ears. "You have no choice but to act like that or be killed. You just have to let it go. It's a thing in the past that's stopping you from living in the present. Leave it in the past!"

I shake my head. "I can't! You don't understand what it's like-,"

"I don't? I've been through war too, Katniss! What do you think happens in _my_ nightmares? You think that I don't see people I care about die?"

"That's different!" I yell, frustrated at the fact that he refused to comprehend anything I say and look at things from my point of view.

"How?" he glares at me. "Enlighten me on how dreams about death are different."

I puff out air, ignoring his unnecessary sarcasm. Exasperation at his closed mind rises like the boiling pot on the stove. Unable to calm myself, my balled fist slams on the hard counter. "THE GAMES CHANGE YOU, GALE! NOTHING I SAY CAN CONVINCE YOU OTHERWISE! PEETA-," I stop. His name slips through my lips this time.

Gale's eyes flicker dangerously, his voice teeming with anger. "Peeta? PEETA? You aren't with him anymore! _He doesn't know you like I do_!"

"GALE!" my voice rises, out of my control now, shaking with fury. "I'M NOT THE SAME GIRL YOU MET IN THE WOODS!"

"THEN WHAT ARE YOU? SOME CAPITOL LOVER LIKE THAT PROSTITUTE FINNICK?"

My chest constricts. My throat tightens. My shaky voice speaks with as much menace as possible, "_He was _not _a prostitute_. Finnick was subject of the Games ruining his life. Just like I am. When can I get this concept through your thick skull: _I've been damaged. I'm broken. I changed. I can't control the things my brain comes up with. You will never understand the effect two Hunger Games have had on me._"

He inhales and exhales, processing what I told him. He replies, shaking his head. "Why do you keep bringing Peeta up in this?"

I lie. "I . . . I just saw him today. He's on my mind I guess. . ."

"Stop lying to me, Katniss! You wish that he was here instead of me, don't you? You wish that he was in our bed and not me!"

"Gale!"

"It's true! Isn't it?" Fury flashes in his eyes.

I don't know what to say without having him getting even more furious with me about things that are _completely out of my control_. "I- I . . . never said it was true!"

"But you never denied it, Katniss. That's what's troubling," he shakes his head, anger rising in his demeanor. "I can't take you sometimes. I really can't."

My jaw went slack. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He clenches and unclenches his fists. He's holding himself back from doing something to me physically that he'll regret. He has this malice in his eyes that he's battling to smother, for my sake. "You just . . . You don't make sense to me lately! What's gotten into you?"

"I'VE CHANGED, GALE! I'VE BEEN THIS WAY EVER SINCE I WAS REAPED!" my hands move to exaggerate my frustration.

"WHY ARE YOU TAKING THIS OUT ON ME?"

"WHY CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND MY POINT OF VIEW? IT ISN'T COMPLICATED TO JUST LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE!"

"You see?" He shrieks. "THAT'S WHAT I MEAN. I _DO_ LISTEN!"

My voice drops, falling into a state of nostalgia. "Not like you used to. I'm the one who suffers from the plight of the Games. Not you. You have no reason to be different."

"YOU!" He yells. "It's you that's changed me! Your nightmares and feelings and scars and memories. They have changed me and sometimes, I really can't deal with it!"

"Well then if I'm such a burden to you, why are you here? Leave!" my voice shakes on the last sentence.

He starts to back up, moving to the door, speaking maliciously slow. "Maybe I will leave! You know what? I take you up on that offer. I am going to leave!"

"Go ahead, have fun!" My voice drips with sarcasm.

"I will!" He opens the door and steps out, giving me once last look before slamming the door shut. At that moment, the pot of water on the stove starts to boil over. Just like my temper. Just like my marriage.

I turn down the heat on the pot, not having an appetite any longer. I shuffle over to the fire to add a log in and sink down onto the warmed rug, running a hand through my bangs. Swallowing, I try not to think about our fight, but it's no use. My throat closes up and tears start to pour down my cheeks.

I don't understand it. I don't understand _him_. Nothing seems to make sense anymore. It is not like how it was with Peeta; those restless nights, waking up to his calm, sleeping face. A part of me misses that. The serene feeling that was between us. I shake my head. I can't slip into this . . . state. The consuming sadness like my mother had due to living in the past. I'm stronger than that.

I pull my feet up to my stomach, linking my arms around my knees, my sobs still racking my body. _He almost did it_, I think to myself as I look at the fire. _He had to hold himself back from hurting me. Physically lunging at me_. He would never actually do it. Never. Ever. No. No. He's protected me ever since we were younger. Always. Nothing can change that.

I sniffle, not bothering to wipe my face. My eyes flit around the room, landing on his bag, the coal dust on the hard wood floor, and his spare boots used in the mines that are sitting by the door. The scent of the fire starts to feel intoxicating, reminding me of him. The entire house feels teeming with Gale. I must get out. This house doesn't even feel like a house anymore. It's more of a cage and I feel locked and trapped. Tears still fall down my face as I grab my father's hunting jacket and slip on my boots. I don't look back as I step out of the house, closing the door behind me.

**I told you they would get longer! And things are really starting to heat up in the Everdeen-Hawthorne household…**


	5. Chapter 4

I don't know where I'm going and what I plan to accomplish by going out and so I let my feet guide me. Taking me anywhere they wish to go.

I end up in the square, looking out at where the Justice Building used to stand, tall and orderly. Home to Mayor Undersee, who would always buy strawberries harvested from me and . . . him. I lived through two reapings here. Not even a few yards in front of me is where I volunteered for Prim and Gale carried her away. Prim. Water wells up in my eyes and I quickly pivot on my heels, getting away from Prim's ghost.

Tugging my collar up, I walk down to the town, seeing that most of the shops are closed. The occasional person strolls by me hastily, rushing to get home to have dinner with his family. I wipe my nose and just walk. The bakery's lights are off and there's the devastating sign on the glass door that reads: "WE'RE CLOSED". An unplanned disappointment hits me. For some reason I can't explain, ignore it and walk around to the back of the shops, crossing someone's backyard.

My feet pull to a halt once they hit the yard of the Mellark's bakery. I smell the tantalizing aroma of fresh bread diffusing its way over to me. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, letting the scent overtake me. I take a step back, my boot hitting a tree root and I sink down to the grass, leaning my head against the old apple tree's trunk. I catch a glimpse of Peeta through the door that's open ajar. He's standing by the ovens in the back, scraping off burnt bits of bread into a garbage can. I stare at the door and continue to cry, unsure about _what_ I am crying about anymore. My entire body tenses when Peeta steps out, dumping his garbage into the trash bin. I feel his eyes rake over me and I slowly wipe my cheeks, staring at the grass, feeling foolish for even being in his yard in the first place. I hear him set down the metal bin and walk over.

"We were in a similar situation a few years ago and I saved your life with two loaves of bread. Real or not real?"

"Real," I say, my voice coming out shaky and hollow.

He extends a flour coated hand. I glance at this apron, covered in dough and powdered sugar, sighing. I half-heartedly take his hand and he hauls me up. I swallow, not daring to look him in the eye.

"Katniss. Katniss, look at me," there's an urgency and hardness that hangs in his words that makes me cringe, reminding me of Gale.

I raise my eyes.

"You don't look well. What's wrong?" he wipes the back of his hand on his forehead, smearing more flour on his skin.

My voice catches in my throat, "Nothing. It's . . . nothing."

"No, Katniss. It's not just nothing," his tone softens. "You can trust me. Tell me."

I bite my lip at his kindness. "I . . . I can't . . . I just can't . . . I don't know anymore, okay? I just don't know!"

Peeta looks at me, puzzled.

My hands instinctively cover my red eyes and the hysterics come once more. I shake my head. I hear his heavy footsteps on the ground, moving closer to me, but not pulling me into an embrace, which is what I desperately need right now.

In between my cries I manage to tell him, "Gale. Peeta, it's Gale."

He rips my hands away from my face causing me to jump. His angry eyes meet mine. "What do you mean? What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?"

I sniffle. "No . . . but-,"

"But what? Katniss, did he make you do something you didn't want to?"

I shake my head. "No . . . not that. We fought . . . and he left . . ."

His demeanor softens. "He left?"

"The house. He needed some air," I look him in the eye, blocking out my husband's infuriated face.

Peeta's hands descend on my shoulders, fingers playing with the end of my braid. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I hesitate, but I can't hold everything in any longer. I'm about to explode and who knows what that will do to those around me. I nod reluctantly. He turns around, letting me follow him passed the ovens. My knees give out at the delicious smell of the room and I sink to the floor, falling back against the counter. Peeta actually walks away, but I'm too worn out to even ask where he's going. He returns soon enough with something wrapped in a napkin. He holds it out to me.

"These were your favorite, right?" He asks. The thing in the napkin is one of his cheese buns, which are actually my favorite still. When I can get them, at least. I don't come to the bakery often…

I quickly shut off that train of thought, taking the bread with a grateful smile. I take a bite and discover that I'm ravenous. Peeta sits down next to me, watching me eat his food. When my chewing finally slows, he speaks again.

"Can you talk now?" I swallow the last of the cheese bun, and my tears, and nod. "What happened?"

"We fought. It was bad. He… he just doesn't get it. What the Games do to you." I flinch away from his knowing gaze. He understands completely. And yet I pushed him away.

"No one does. Unless they've been through it." He answers simply, somehow completely explaining the inexplicable bond between all victors. Which includes us. I ignore that and plunge on.

"He says I've changed. That he doesn't know me anymore." I say, then stop, wondering exactly how much I should tell him. There was a time when I wouldn't have thought twice about telling him everything. It was almost simpler then. But I can't go back so fast. Slowly, I have to remind myself. Peeta is still silent, sensing I have more to tell him.

"He… I don't know… something about you." I explain haltingly, feeling him tense beside me.

"Katniss, if I'm part of the problem, you shouldn't be here." There he goes, giving me up again. I can see how much that cost him, telling me to return to the pain.

"No," I tell him quietly, then find my voice. "No, Peeta. I can't go back now. This is the best I've felt in a long time." It's then that I realize that he has barely touched me, besides helping me up. Why is that?

"Fine, you can stay for now." He settles himself more comfortably on the floor, maintaining a careful distance between us. And I have to ask.

"Why won't you touch me?" my words come out a lot needier than I intended, but there's no taking them back now. He wordlessly stretches out a hand and brushes my bangs aside, then returns it to his own lap. Then it hits me. I've been awful to him, and now I'm expecting him to take me back with open arms. I'm a horrible person. I start trying to get up, moving away from him.

"Where are you going?" he asks, thoroughly confused. I just shake my head and lurch to my feet. He tries to grab my hand, but I swing it away.

"Katniss, wait!" He calls and for some reason I stop. I turn back to him and try to explain

"I can't hurt you like this. I pushed you away, and now I just expect you to come back. I can't hurt you anymore…" that's the only thought that dominates my mind as I walk out of the bakery, back into the unforgiving cold. I jump when his hand catches my shoulder and spins me around.

"You've got to stop thinking like that," he tells me with a faint smile. "Not everything you do hurts someone. It doesn't hurt me. I'm just glad to have you back at all." And finally he hugs me. But it's a different hug than before. This is the hug of a friend, a brother even. Nothing like the admittedly torrid embraces we used to share. I hug him back, unsure which I would prefer right now.

Eventually he lets me go and leads me back into the bakery, sitting me down at the table now and handing me a cup of tea. I smile my thanks and take it, sipping the scalding liquid slowly. He sits across from me, his hands folded, and I look at him, at the face I still know so well.

"Do you want to tell me anything else? I'm here for you." He tells me, and I now appreciate the sacrifice this must take him.

"Thank you. And that was our second fight in two days. Things have been a little weird for a while. I don't know what's going on anymore." I finally say, taking advantage of him again. He can say what he wants, but this is hurting him. I just know it.

"It's gonna be okay," Peeta consoles me, reaching across the table to take my hand. "Go back and talk to him. Without screaming. Figure out what's wrong and fix it." The words always come so easily to him, no matter what the situation. And he's right, as always.

"I know. But," I hesitate, hating myself for what I'm about to say "Can I stay here a while longer?" I wince as I ask, knowing that I'm taking advantage of him horribly. He, of course says yes. I stay only long enough to finish my tea. After that I get up to leave, thanking him profusely for all he did.

"It's nothing. Come back whenever you want." He offers. I nod and start walking away again, into the velvety night. He stands and waves me away from the door. The last thing I see is him slumping against the doorway, his hands coming up to cover his face. This little encounter hurt him terribly. I turn my face into the wind and walk home, swearing I'll never do this to him again.

**The poor little babies. It's all so sad. She never forgot him. Awww…**


	6. Chapter 5

I push open the door with a bump of my shoulder against the wood as I didn't bother locking anything when I left. Who would steal from us anyway? A coal miner and a broken Victor from the Seam? The sound of the crackling fire is long gone and the room has this sort of tangible sadness running throughout it. I take of my jacket, hanging it back up and kick off my boots, leaving them strewn on the floor. I trudge across the kitchen in my socks down the hallway to our empty bedroom. It's so cold without the fire going and without him there to make the sheets warm with body heat. Without a care in the world, I strip off my shirt and pants, falling into the comforter and blanket with just my underclothes. I pull the blankets closely around me, forming a cocoon of heat, trying to fall asleep despite everything that happened this evening. My mind is swimming with Peeta's kind words and the harsher, louder ones of Gale. I cover my face with my hands, rubbing my head. I thought I was done with these conflicted feelings. I thought I got rid of them when I married Gale. The past has a habit of never going away, no matter how many years pass by. History has a habit of repeating itself as well. My thoughts start to drift to the Games, specifically those moments spent with Peeta. Positive and happy moments flood back to me.

Suddenly, I'm sitting on a cave floor, my head throbbing in pain, the sound of Peeta's mellow, calm voice bouncing off the stone walls saying:_ I_ _remember everything about you. You're the one that wasn't paying attention._ And my response follows: _I am now_.

It shifts and the feeling of sand beneath my legs takes over and the sound of waves crashing lightly on the shore. I feel his arms around me, hungrily kissing his mouth. I feel that hunger again, the wanting, the needing for him and I sit upright in bed, opening my eyes. _No_, I tell myself. _Don't think of this. I shouldn't be living in these memories. _It seems like everything attached to the arena or Games themselves comes to haunt me. Good moments, bad moments, and everything in between. I can't take it anymore. I won. Twice. Then why do I feel . . . guilty? Guilty about even thinking about those sweet moments I spent with Peeta and even having the feeling that I want them back. This is the exact thing I told Gale not to do. I am a hypocrite. A raging hypocrite. I'm a married woman and I'm thinking about past romances. All of this happened because I made the snap decision to see him. I pull my hair out of my braid, running my hair between my fingers, staring out into the dark room, feeling more alone than ever and more like my seventeen year old self by the second.

The clock we have on the wall by the kitchen dings three times, signaling it's three in the morning. It's at that moment when I realize I won't be getting much sleep tonight and fall back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling until my eyes can't take it anymore. When the clock strikes four I finally drift off into a sleep, as always, plighted with the burden of nightmares.

I'm startled awake at a sound in the room. Clutching the sheets, I sit up to see the tall shape that can only belong to Gale, looming in the corner. I wipe the sleep from my eyes, looking at his back. I slowly pull the sheets up to my face, sinking back down into the mattress, not in the mood to confront him at all. I feel his eyes gravitate over to me and I freeze.

His voice comes out husky and sleepy. "Katniss? Are you awake?"

I groan in response, not wanting to speak.

I hear a drawer open and slam shut and I peek out from behind the sheets. I watch his back with one eye as he takes his shirt off, throwing it to the ground. Upon looking at it, I wouldn't notice anything different about his body, but I know him too well. I know he doesn't have four short scars by each shoulder, only the long lash marks from the head Peacekeeper that replaced Cray, Thread. I pull the rest of the sheet down, moving to sit on my tailbone, looking intently at his back. Those scratches . . . they could only be made by something grabbing onto his shoulders . . . and he wasn't hunting last night, he didn't bring his game bag. It dawns on me that it wasn't an animal attack at all. That he has nail marks that have been made by nothing other than another woman. One he most likely slept with the night before. My jaw drops as the realization comes. He left home last night, went somewhere, found a girl, and did whatever he wanted to with her. Anger rises and I squeeze the sheets in my hands, not knowing whether I should say something now or later.

I watch him lazily slip a shirt on and he drags his feet out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. How can he even bear to come home to his wife after what he did? How dare he cheat on me after a fight? I sputter out profanity, puffing out air as I shake my head. I am furious. No, past furious. I don't even know what to do. Do I get up and talk to him about it or do I act like this never happened? I slam my pillow in frustration. I am a married woman. I should not have to worry about him running off and sleeping with another woman.

I haul myself out of our bed, unable to take it anymore. He's hung over – most likely – and laid. Does he not understand the fact that we're married? We are bound to one another. Always . . . _No, don't think of Peeta,_ my brain cries, knowing the word always meant a great deal to him. To us. _Stop it, Katniss. Not now. Deal with Gale._

Pacing for a few moments, I impulsively throw open the door with a huff. I turn a corner, looking into the open lay out of the kitchen. Gale's standing by the stove sleepily, shifting a pan back and forth, clearly making eggs. I exhale and cross my arms angrily, but I speak in the sweetest tone possible. "Morning, love."

He spins around immediately at my voice. "Good morning."

_Good, he doesn't realize I'm two seconds away from hitting him over the head with that pan_. I smile softly, making my fake-happiness seem real. Apparently, I'm not awful at it. I made President Snow believe me.

"Whatcha makin'?" I stroll behind him, wrapping my arms around him, looking under his left arm. It goes around my shoulders.

"Eggs and toast. Do you want some?" He flips the eggs in the skillet with one hand.

My stomach grumbles, despite the boiling anger I have towards him, I want breakfast. "I'd love some."

He kisses my temple. "Why don't you get out some plates and glasses, I'm almost done."

I pull away, going to the cabinets, getting out the necessary utensils for breakfast. I set the table for two, not wanting to look at him, trying to figure out a way to get on the topic of what he did last night. I'll find a way eventually.

A few silent minutes pass and I get up to make some toast. Gale soon comes over to the table, dumping the eggs on our plates.

"Ow! Hot. . . Hot toast. . ." I drop two slices on each of our dishes, cooling my fingers in the pitcher of water he set down.

He laughs, taking a bite of his toast. "The girl on fire is burned by toast. Interesting . . ."

"Shut up," I smile and put some salt and pepper on my eggs. A part of me doesn't understand how he can joke after what he did last night. Does he not remember?

We eat in another silence, the clanking of our forks and glasses filling the house. Never have I ever experienced a breakfast so awkward. I just wanted the truth from him. That's all.

I start to finish up my helping, getting full and I notice he's almost done as well. That is when a brilliant idea pops into my mind. He isn't just going to talk on his own. He needs to be coaxed or prompted. Gale isn't a blabbermouth. I guess that means it's up to me to make him be honest.

I stand and walk over to sit on his lap, looking up at the stubble on his jaw. "So . . . that was a great breakfast."

"Thank you. It's the least I could to make up for fighting with you yesterday."

Strange. He rarely apologizes. His way of making up is through sleeping with me. It always has been that way. I guess he's already had enough of that, though. I smile a little, trying to cover the fire in my eyes.

"If that's my reward, we should fight more often." I laugh, running my hand over his stubble, taking in the still remarkably unchanged feeling. He feels the same. But I can hardly bear to touch him now, knowing someone else's hands have been on him.

He laughs too, unaware of how very aware I am. He puts his hands on my hips, running his thumbs over my exposed skin. It strikes me now that I never got dressed. Well. Maybe I can use that to my advantage.

I lean into his chest, brushing my lips against his neck, and his laughter cuts off. He has realized what I'm going for. Or maybe that's what he wanted all along. No matter what, his hands are underneath me and I'm in the air as he whisks me off to the bedroom. This still feels so, so wrong. But I'm determined to get the truth from him.

He lays me down on the bed and presses his lips to mine, his hands skimming along my body and already plucking at hems and edges, anxious to move on. Gale has no appetite for any of the before stuff. So, obligingly, I start pulling on the edge of his shirt, to take it off, and my plan crystallizes. This is it. I pull his shirt off over his head and run my hands over his back, to exactly where I know the scratches are. And stop. And pull back. And look at him like I've just discovered them.

"Turn around; I think you got hurt while you were out last night," I say with deceptive innocence. He obeys, but slowly. I think he knows what they are. "Are these… scratches? Were you out hunting last night?" he turns back around to face me now. This is the moment of truth.

"Yeah. I didn't catch anything, though." He mutters, not looking me in the eye. "But I'm okay. Now, we were in the middle of something…" he runs his hands over my body again and I'm repulsed. He's lying to my face. I shove his hands away and sit up.

"What attacked you? These scratches look kinda short. And why was your shirt off? Or did they rip through your shirt?" I refuse to let him get away with this. He's going to tell me, whether he wants to or not.

"There was a pack of wild dogs. Six or seven. I didn't see them. Only one got its claws into me though. I was climbing a tree and it jumped. Now don't worry about me…" he recites, then tries to ease me back down on to the bed. I can't believe he's still trying that.

"Hold on a moment. Let me see your shirt."

"What? Why?" he asks, a bit panicked, giving himself away. I struggle to get out from underneath him and retrieve it.

"I'm going to need to fix it and I want to see the damage." I lie. This is more important. I finally free myself and pluck his completely unharmed shirt off the floor, inspecting the shoulders where the tears should be. "Did you have your shirt off?" I ask, my eyes still on the fabric.

"Um… yeah. I got hot." He stammers, his eyes focused on the shirt as well. And suddenly I can't take it anymore. I throw the shirt at him.

"YOU LYING ASSHOLE! I KNOW YOU WERE WITH SOMEONE ELSE LAST NIGHT! THOSE AREN'T THE SCRATCHES OF ANIMAL. THEY'RE FROM SOME GIRL! HOW COULD YOU?" I scream at him, beyond reason. He catches the shirt, and holds up his hands as if to shield himself.

"No… I just-" he starts to try to explain, but I cut him off. I don't want to know.

"DON'T EVEN TRY. I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHO SHE WAS, OR HOW MUCH BETTER IT WAS THAN STAYING HERE WITH ME. I DON'T CARE ANYMORE. I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU, OR A SINGLE WORD THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR LYING MOUTH!" I say. There is no thought in my mind other than my total detestation of this man in my bed, my house. He is almost cowering against the sheets. Hiding, again.

"Katniss, I love you, I'm sorry!" he gets out before I'm off again.

"OH, YOU'RE SORRY? WELL, THAT MEANS JUST SO DAMN MUCH TO ME RIGHT NOW I'LL HAVE TO RECONSIDER THIS WHOLE THING, ALL BECAUSE _YOU'RE SORRY_!" I shriek.

"I never meant to- I was just drunk!"

"WELL FANTASTIC! YOU WENT OUT AND SLEPT WITH SOME WHORE, ALL 'CAUSE YOU WERE DRUNK!" I laugh now, sarcastically. "THAT'S SO MUCH BETTER. MY GOD. I SHOULD'VE KNOWN I COULD NEVER TRUST YOU. YOU BLEW UP MY SISTER, FOR GOD'S SAKE!" But now I've crossed a line. He's no longer hiding. He stands, towering over me, anger blazing in his eyes too.

"That wasn't me. Coin did it. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU THAT? I THOUGHT YOU WERE PAST THIS! IT'S OVER! THE WAR IS OVER, THE GAMES ARE OVER. GET OVER THEM!" He shouts at me. And that's it. I'm done with him.

"Get over them? GET OVER THEM? I CAN'T! I CAN NOT EVER 'GET OVER THEM'. THEY DESTROYED MY WHOLE LIFE AND HAUNT ME EVERY NIGHT. THEY WILL NEVER GO AWAY, AND, NO, I WILL NOT 'GET OVER THEM'!" But he knows that he's wrong this time. He takes a step towards me, arms out.

"No. That's not what I meant, not at all. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know. I still see the faces too. I would never ask that of you." He's trying to calm me down now. I step away from him, back into the wall. I feel the edge of the doorframe against my back. And I know I need to get out. I grab some clothes from the closet and dress quickly, without a word. He stands in the same spot, arms still out, waiting, his eyes pleading. But I won't give him the satisfaction. The only time I show that I see him is as I'm walking out the door. I catch his eye one more time and can't decide what to do. So I flip him the bird and leave.

**Wow. It's getting pretty bad. Oh, and Gale's a lying asshole. In case you missed that.**


	7. Chapter 6

I scuff my feet along the ground, wondering how much longer I can go on like this. I can't believe he cheated on me. Yeah, we fight, but I would never hurt him like that. And I assumed he would never do that to me either. But I guess I was wrong. I overestimated him. My hunting partner. My best friend. The only one I could always trust, no matter what. I couldn't have been more wrong. He was the one who hurt me the worst.

Looking up now, I see my wanderings have again taken me to the bakery. And I know I shouldn't. I shouldn't torture him like this, force him to accept some half-hearted friendship when he loves me still. And yet, he is the only one who understands. And the only friend I have.

_Because the others are all dead, _whispers that little voice that never lets me forget. That never lets me 'get over it'. So I walk in, even though I know I shouldn't.

Just like his face shouldn't light up when he sees me, even though I can see his hands clench. This contradictory reaction confuses me, and I halt. Does he want me here or not? I've only taken a step or two through the door and I'm already hurting him, I'm sure of it. I should go. I should've never come. I start to turn, when he speaks.

"Katniss. Don't go." I turn back again, take another step. He comes out from behind the counter and walks over to me, reading the pain on my face. "What's wrong? Tell me."

I sigh, biting my lip in thought before I dump my pain on him. His simple act of kindness broke me. My voice comes out choked and small. "Gale. It's _always_ Gale."

Peeta grabs my shoulders with his flour covered hands. "What did he do this time?"

"He cheated on me," I mumble and then lift my watery eyes to meet his. I speak louder, and with more venom. "With some whore while he was drunk. He has nail marks all over his shoulder blades from where she was ripping into his skin while he drove into her."

His blond eyebrows rise a little at my bluntness, but his voice remains calm. "That's awful."

"No," I interject, just pouring out my anger. "That's not the worst of it. Not only was he driven out of the house by our fight, he also lied to me about what happened. He said he went out hunting and didn't find anything, but then six or seven wild dogs attacked him, _scratching his back_. His shirt from the night before was completely unharmed. He covers it up by claiming he was shirtless. And then, this morning, he makes me this nice breakfast and is extremely nice as if he was sorry about yelling at me. I pretend like I start to catch on to his terrible lies after he decides to carry me into the bedroom and every time I try to say something to make him admit to what he did last night, he tries to distract me. All he cares about is mending things with sex.

"So then I yell at him and he starts sputtering out excuses that he was drunk and that he loves me and that he's sorry and all of this other bullshit. I couldn't take it anymore! I screamed at him and left. Now I'm here, dumping this on you, when I really shouldn't be. I'm sorry." I just register that tears of rage and sadness are trickling down my face and that I'm pulling away from the man I so desperately want to fall into.

"Katniss, please," his voice is tight as he grips my wrist, tugging me down to the floor so we can sit and talk. "Stay with me."

A sob leaks out of my throat and I cover my face with one hand, turning away from him as my thoughts echo the word: _Always_. "I . . . I can't . . . I shouldn't have come. I'm hurting you by staying here. I just . . . I don't have anyone else to turn to and . . . This isn't right. I'm sorry."

"Katniss!" Peeta's grip squeezes my wrist, his demeanor extremely serious. "You hurt me no matter what. I have nothing to lose. You have no one. So do I. _Please_ stay with me. For now."

I cower into the wall behind me, adjusting my sitting position so I face him better. Turning my wrist, I work it out of his palm.

"For now." I agree, knowing that I must leave again, return to the house that has only brought me pain. But I can wallow in his arms for an hour, maybe. No matter how wrong it is.

"Do you want to talk? About anything? I'm here for you. Always." He says quietly, and the word echoes again. Always. Always. Try never. He's what I always could've had, but never chose.

"Do you still paint?" I ask, surprising myself. But now I really want to know.

"Of course," he smiles. "Would you like to see them?" I surprise myself again by nodding. He stands, and then helps me off the ground, leading me upstairs after closing the bakery. That gives me a little twinge of conscience, but not enough to stop him. He shows me through his rooms above the bakery, stopping in a sunlit studio. Color-covered canvases dot the room. I wander amongst them, studying the images, while he stands by the door.

"They're amazing." I tell him, almost reverently. For now he has painted the beautiful moments of our shared time, few though there were. The sunset on the beach, scenes from our cave, laughing during our seafood feast. And me, again and again. Sometimes in the Games, or on the Victory Tour, or during the war, or just home, in Victor's Village. He has found beauty, even in our dismal life. Lives. We have two separate lives now. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

I cross the room back to him, and it's all I can do to keep my hands off of him. I'm starting to remember why I loved him. My dandelion. And suddenly, the words come spilling out of my mouth without my permission.

"We should sleep together. Now. We should do it." My mouth falls open after, and so does his. I never meant to say that. I never meant to even think it. He steps back a little.

"No. I won't let you-"

"Just for revenge, I mean." my god, that's even worse. Now he knows I'm just using him. Or am I? His face darkens and he turns away, stepping back further.

"No." he answers darkly, his pain clear on his face, as clear as all these beautiful paintings. And I must do something to fix it. I reach out to him, trying to cross the distance I have just created between us.

"No, Peeta, no. That's not what I meant at all. I didn't mean to say that. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I miss you so much, I love you-" I stop short, finally hearing what came out of my mouth. He takes my hand and squeezes it once, a sad sort of smile coming on to his face. He pulls me in a bit closer and kisses my forehead, lightly.

"I think you should go home now."

**Sorry we didn't update til now, but we just got power back last night. And we know this is a pretty terrible cliffhanger, but the good news is we'll be updating tomorrow as usual so you won't have to wait long.**


	8. Chapter 7

Clearly, I'm having some difficulty going home after that one. So I walk the square, again and again, trying to make sense of my thoughts. Unfortunately they're not in the mood to make sense.

I chose Gale. I married Gale. I loved Gale. No, I love Gale. Still love him. Right? I mean, it was just one mistake. I can forgive him. Eventually. But what about Peeta. I know I loved him. But do I still love him? Did I mean it when I said that?

Yes. Yes I did.

So then where does that leave me? With Gale, I suppose. I am still married. But can I live like this? The constant fights and shouting and fleeing? I don't know.

And can I do this to Peeta, who still loves me so much, who I will never deserve, who I injure at every turn? Can I stay away from him, now that I know I still love him? Should I stay away? Or should I give him what little I can, even though it's far less than what he should have.

I'm still considering alternatives when a familiar tall figure enters the square. Gale. He has come looking for me. No. No, not now. He is the last thing I need. But he has already spotted me and is making a beeline towards me. Perfect.

"Catnip!" he calls, waving as though I have not already seen him through the other maybe ten people in the square. It's too cold for most people to be out. I wave half-heartedly in response.

"Hi, Gale." I mutter once he's close enough to hear. He sweeps me up in a big hug and plants a kiss on my cheek. Does he not remember what just happened? I squirm to be let loose.

"I was worried about you. And I'm so, so sorry. I was stupid to say that. I love you, always and forever. You know that, right?" he has no right to use that word. Always. It belongs to Peeta and Peeta alone. And maybe it's this, or the hug, or his bizarre protectiveness of me, but somehow I'm angry again. I rip myself out of his arms.

"I was fine. Can't I take a walk outside of my house without you checking up on me?" I spit, tired of everything. He takes a step back, surprised.

"Yeah. Of course you can. I was just worried because you were so angry, I didn't know what you would do…" he tries to explain, but I'm not interested.

"What I would do? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I- I don't know…" he slides his eyes away from mine and suddenly I realize what he was worried about.

"You thought _I_ was gonna cheat on _you_. And you came to stop me." I say slowly, the truth dawning. "You filthy hypocrite!" I half-shout. How dare he violate my trust, and then come try to force me not to do the same.

"What? No! Well, I mean, I didn't want…" his half-formed excuse peters out when he sees the rage in my face.

"You can't just _control_ me! I'm not some toy! I can do whatever I want, since apparently you've taken that liberty. I can screw every guy in this whole damn town if I want! You've lost my trust, and my faith, and, and… our relationship! You mean nothing to me!" I shout at him. Maybe that's a little much, but I'm too far gone to notice. Unfortunately, he isn't. He's heard every word.

"No, you cannot do 'whatever you want'! No matter what mistakes I made, you are still my wife. We are still bound to each other. And you must obey the rules that come with that obligation, one that _you_ chose! I didn't even want to marry you!" he screams back at me. We've both lost track of the people around us and the crowd that's forming. Neither of us notices the blonde man that forces his way to the front, his face horrified.

"You didn't want to marry me? Well, that's great. That's just fantastic. 'CAUSE I DON'T THINK I WANT TO BE MARRIED ANYMORE!" My hands come up in front of me, like I'm going to shove him. And, to be honest, I almost do. I would've, if a certain someone hadn't jumped in and stepped between us.

You guessed it. Peeta.

Gale's eyes widen when he sees the intruder, his anger attaching to this new target.

"MELLARK! WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE, IN MY BUSINESS?" He roars in Peeta's face. In his honor, he never flinched, just spoke calmly, with the words I can never seem to find.

"I'm sorry. After this, I'll get out. You'll never have to worry about me again. I just want to ask you one thing: do you even see what you're doing here? You have this amazing girl and you're treating her like garbage." I wince a little at the compliment, just another sign that he never quite gave up, but admire what Peeta's trying to do. He wants Gale to stop for a minute and think. Unfortunately, Gale is not a 'stop and think' kind of guy. The calm words only serve to infuriate him further.

"YOU JUST GET THE HELL OUT OF MY LIFE AND HERS RIGHT NOW! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT'S GOING ON! JUST BECAUSE YOU STILL HAVE A PATHETIC LITTLE CRUSH ON HER, IT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING TO ANYONE BUT YOU!" Gale screams at him. I can see Peeta's body tense and I just know that this absolutely cannot end well, no matter what. But I am frozen, unable to intervene.

"Some pathetic little crush… if it means nothing to anyone but me, why were you so scared when she ran off to the town square? Where my bakery is? Where she spent last night?" Peeta is fighting back with his words, the only thing he has, but I can see that he is barely clinging to a deadly temper even I have never seen released. And I don't ever want to.

"I- I- YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A FRIEND TO HER! YOU ALWAYS HAVE BEEN! YOU LOST, BAKER BOY. IT'S OVER. JUST GET OVER IT!" Gale fumbles for a minute, his worst fears laid out before him, but rebounds with a crushing blow. Something in his words, the very same ones he threw at me this morning, thaws me out a little. My thoughts clear. I must stop this. But how?

"If this what winning is, I prefer to have lost," he answers quietly, looking at Gale in his towering anger, then back at me, where I stand confused and scared. "At least she still loves me." he finishes, so quiet that I'm sure Gale can barely hear. But I hear just fine. I hear the pain and longing in each syllable, and it hurts me, deep down. Hurts so much I don't even register what he said. I just hear Gale laughing cruelly.

"Loves you? You think she loves you? Just how deluded are you? She loves me. She chose me. She has no feelings left for you." He sneers the last word, like Peeta is a bug he's about to crush. Peeta just smiles a little, the same one he gave me before I left, and looks back at me again, making no response. Gale doesn't fail to notice this. "Katniss? Is… is there something I should know?" he asks, confused and still angry, even before he knows what's going on.

"What? No. There's nothing." I tell him. My lying skills are much better than his, but I can't look at Peeta. I can't see the hurt in his eyes as I deny him yet again. And I can barely stand the look of triumph in Gale's.

"You see that?" he crows, turning back to the wounded man in front of him "She cares nothing for you. She never did. And she never will. So you need to get away from my wife. And stay away. Neither of us wants you here. Come on." He stretches out a hand to me, like everything is miraculously okay and I'm going to skip off into the sunset with him. I ignore his hand and turn to Peeta, talking low enough that no one can hear it but us.

"Peeta. I'm sorry. I just can't-" I try to say, but Gale grabs my arm and starts trying to lead me home. Or rather, pull me. I rip my arm out of his grasp and whirl on him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You should have nothing to say to him. You also won't be going back to his house ever again. Got it?" he mandates, grabbing for my arm again. Does he not see what he's doing?

"You. Can't. CONTROL ME!" I screech, but he seems not to notice. He pushes Peeta away to put his hand on my hip and pull me closer with a grip I can't resist.

"Look, maybe when we get home, we can have some fun to forget this… incident…" Gale says, lowering his voice, pitched only for me to hear. His hand travels up my body, to the point where it's almost indecent.

"NO, Gale." He doesn't stop. His other hand starts traveling down my leg.

"Come on… you know you love this…" I can hear the smirk in his voice and I hate it. I start to smack his grabbing hand away, but Peeta beats me to it. He grabs Gale roughly and pushes him against a nearby wall.

"She said no." he growls, pushing his face harder into the concrete. But Gale still doesn't get it. He's not whimpering for release like I thought he would. Instead, he struggles violently, swearing even worse, angrier than ever.

"What do you think you're doing, Mellark?!" he shouts through the wall, almost throwing Peeta off.

"Keep your hands off of her." Is Peeta's only response, crushing him harder. Gale responds and actually manages to break free, taking a swing at him as soon as he gets his arms back. But Peeta wasn't in the Hunger Games for nothing. His reflexes are killer. Literally. He whips back and throws a punch to his gut, landing it effortlessly. Gale doubles over, coughing, but straightens up quickly. He again lashes out for Peeta's face and misses. Peeta is veritably dancing around; landing punches hard enough to bruise, but light enough not to really hurt him. He's restraining himself, anyone can see.

But then Peeta tries to do something fancy and lets his guard down for a split second. Gale sees this and hits him immediately, right in the eye, splitting the skin on his cheek as well. It starts bleeding almost instantly, but Peeta ignores it, attacking with a new fury. Within seconds he breaks Gale's nose and his opponent's face is now gushing blood as well. I can't stand this much longer.

They are both spewing profanities as they battle, trying to outdo each other in that too. Words I never pictured hearing out of Peeta flow with ease, in practiced insults. Gale is less surprising with his cursing. I hear it almost every day. Just never in this context. Never over me. And never applied to a man I love.

I am jolted back into the fight as Gale sweeps Peeta's feet out from underneath him, sending him crashing to the ground. He struggles to regain his footing, but his prosthetic leg is malfunctioning. It won't allow him to stand. Gale is looming over him, ready to deal a final blow, when I realize that I must intervene right now if I want to stop this.

"NO!" I scream, jumping in front of Gale before he strikes. "Don't hurt him!"

"Why not?" he sneers. "He's nothing to either of us but a nuisance. Unless there's something you need to tell me?"

And suddenly all eyes are on me again. I become aware of the now rather large crowd, every single one of them waiting for my answer with baited breath. What I say next will change everything. Can I do it?

"Yes. There is something you should know." My voice comes out louder than I intended, ringing with authority. I have made my choice.

"Katniss, no. You don't have to do this. I'll be fine." Peeta mumbles from behind me. I look at him. He has managed to sit up, but his face is still bleeding heavily and he is spotted with quickly forming bruises. I can't let anything else happen to him.

"I do. You deserve it." I say simply, and then turn back to Gale, who is fuming in front of me. "And you deserve an explanation. He's not nothing. He couldn't ever be nothing."

"If he's not nothing then what is he?" Gale queries, his eyes still on fire, glaring down at Peeta. While Peeta's injuries have made me want to protect him, Gale's have only made him scarier. His face is caked with dried blood and his chest is heaving. He looks like he could kill someone.

"He's… he's something. I don't know quite what." I answer, hedging my confession. I know that I love Peeta. I never stopped loving him. And I never will. But I can't just announce that to Gale, whom I also love. With each breath I feel more and more like I'm seventeen again, fighting a war and battling a love triangle.

"You… don't know? How can you not know? Do you love him, like he said?" Gale roars, his anger never abating, the fire still driving him, till he reaches a cliff.

"I… Well, I…" this is the real moment of truth. My choice. Here and now. I look back at Peeta, then at Gale. I take a deep breath and throw my shoulders back, answering with a single quiet word.

**We're sorry guys! We know we promised to have this up on Thursday, but then this stupid snowstorm came and smacked us in the face and knocked out our power again. We just got it back. So here's the newest installment. Try not to kill us over the ending, okay?**


	9. Chapter 8

_"I… Well, I…" this is the real moment of truth. My choice. Here and now. I look back at Peeta, then at Gale. I take a deep breath and throw my shoulders back, answering with a single quiet word. _

"Yes."

The air is silent except for far away chatter and panting breaths. Gale's eye burn through mine and he snaps, "What?"

I exhale, repeating the word louder so people at the edge of the crowd can hear. "YES!"

Peeta's labored breaths catch in his chest behind me. He mumbles my name in disbelief. I don't respond. I refuse to remove my death stare from Gale. Right now, I don't trust him. Once I turn my back he's going to knock me off my feet and pin me to the stone ground. I know him too well. He's like a Career now. He's not Gale Hawthorne, my hunting partner and best friend.

"Katniss," Gale's voice is malevolent and shaking and uneven. "Tell me you're lying."

Peeta questions softly behind me, "Real or not real?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, biting my lip as my head turns to the right, as if I'm trying to find an escape. Peeta Mellark. I swear every time he opens up his mouth and talks he just stabs my heart.

"Real. No, Gale, I'm not lying." I roll my shoulders, open my eyes, and step to the side of Peeta.

Gale balls his fists, cracking his neck. Oh no . . . He wouldn't lunge at me now. Would he?

He darts forward and crashes on top of Peeta, his hands gripping his throat in a chokehold. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Peeta sputters, pushing his heavy chest off of his own that's heaving. I tense up, unsure how to stop this, tears prickling my eyes as my heart races. No . . . It can't end this way. It just can't.

"Gale . . . I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to…"

"I KNOW YOU'RE LYING TO ME!" He bangs Peeta's head back.

I jump and cringe, mouth forming soundless words.

"Gale . . . please . . . It's not . . ."

"DON'T YOU DARE BLAME HER!" His hands tighten and Peeta's face turns red, struggling for breath. Coming out of my paralysis and call out, desperate to save my ex-ally: "IT'S ME, GALE! IT'S ME!"

He whirls on me, hands still on the baker's neck. "WHAT? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"

I gesture to my chest. "IT'S MY DECISION! NOT HIS! I MADE IT MYSELF!"

"Oh, please," he speaks condescendingly, as if my excuse isn't worth his time, turning back to Peeta, his grip loosening from the distraction.

"GALE HAWTHORNE!" I'm losing it. He shouldn't be blaming anyone else but me. I'm the one that ran to him. Actually, this whole fiasco is _Gale's_ fault. If it wasn't for his inability to understand me and cruel words, this whole situation could have been avoided. He focuses on me with annoyance; one steely glare on another.

"Don't blame Peeta for things _you've_ done to our marriage," I pause, forming my words carefully. "You never listen to me. You never try to understand me or my nightmares or who I've become. It's all over your head and you don't even care enough to try."

He completely releases his grip on the man beneath him, standing to face me completely. "What are you talking about Katniss? Of course I care!"

Peeta's gasping and sputtering makes me run over to him and kneel beside him, helping him to sit up. I pat his back, placing my hand over his heart. I snort at Gale's response, looking at him. "Who are you kidding? No you don't. You pushed me to the edge of a precipice. I had to go to Peeta. He was the only one who was there with me that's still alive! _He _understands. He let me cry over our stupid fights and complain about how I don't even know what love is anymore!"

"Catnip-"

"NO!" I cut off his fake kindness. "Love isn't bringing someone to the bedroom for makeup sex after a heated argument. Love isn't leaving the house for an entire night after a fight. Love isn't getting drunk with some girl and screwing her into the bed. Love isn't what we have. It never was."

That does something to his heart strings. His face falls and looks at the blood on the pavement. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling, "Katniss . . . Why didn't you tell me? We could've talked and worked this out somehow."

I shake my head, rubbing Peeta's back. "No . . . I gave you too many chances to prove yourself to me. Every morning, I wake up after a fight and plagued by a nightmare with expectations that that day will be better. But it isn't." Tears start to prickle, threatening to blur my vision. "I wake up with your arms around me and . . . And I should feel warm, but I still feel cold."

"I . . . I'm sorry."

"That's all you can say. After every single fight. I'm through with your apologies and giving you second chances over and over and over again. And I'm always let down. We're too similar, Gale. We're both who we are and I feel foolish for expecting you to care enough to change. We're two blazing fires and we burn whoever comes across us, including ourselves. With that fire I thought that I could feel that hunger. The same hunger I felt . . . With Peeta in the cave during our first games and on the beach from the third Quarter Quell. I'm dying to find it! Desperate for our fire to catch on both of us but . . ." I swallow, a tear droplet rolling down my cheek. "I can't. I can't find something that was never there."

"Katniss, I love you. Don't give up on me so quickly. Please." Gale begs, watching me slip out of his grasp.

"That's just the thing. It's not 'so quickly'. This has been happening since the day we got married. I've been doing my best, and I know you have too, but it will never, ever work. We're too similar. I need someone different." I try to explain the emotions roiling inside of me, emotions that have all condensed right now, my gaze flickering between the two men I think I love.

"But… we can make this work. We're married. We can't just give up." Gale keeps trying, not understanding. This really is it.

"I don't want to. Truly. But I don't think we can make it work. Not forever. I'll go crazy and so will you. You know it."

"So, what now? You're going to elope with Baker Boy here?" Gale puts such venom into the nickname you'd think Peeta was the devil in disguise.

"I don't know. But I do know that I love him. And I'm sorry about that, too. You never deserved any of this."

Peeta looks up at me. "Katniss, I love you too. I never stopped." Then he turns to my husband. "And, Gale, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had her and couldn't manage it. I'm sorry this happened to you. I truly am."

"Go screw yourself, Mellark." Gale says, spitting on the ground very close to his hand. Then he whirls away from us, shoving through the crowd, searching for an escape. And, as stupid as it is, I can't help chasing after one last time. This is not the ending I wanted.

"Gale! Wait! I'm so-" I call out as we reach the edge of the crowd. He turns back to me, his eyes burning. It's more than anger that I see, though. There's also a hurt, desperate animal looking for any way out. His eyes are burning brighter than ever before and they take him over.

"You little WHORE!" he shouts, his hand flying back, about to strike. I bring my hands up to protect myself, truly terrified this time. My protector has become my worst enemy. He's not stopping this time. His hand starts moving toward me, the fire still burning within him. But then he looks at my eyes. And he comes to a dead stop. Realization dawns and he looks at his hand, then back to me. His hand drops to his side.

"Katniss, you know I would never, ever-" he tries to plead, to apologize, one last time. But I've really had enough.

"No, Gale. No I don't." I tell him with deadly menace in my voice. This moment is the end of our relationship. There is nothing more to say or do. So I turn and walk back to Peeta, ignoring all his half-formed words. I'm done.

**There you go. She owned up to her love. And Gale had one final, shining moment of assholery. Just the epilogue left now. Hope you guys enjoyed it.**


	10. Epilogue

**Sorry we're late, but we had to eat more food than should be possible. Hope you had a happy Thanksgiving!**

**Three Months Later**

I knock on his backdoor, my face wide with a grin. He opens it slowly, taking in my expression, my bags.

"It's official." I tell him. "I'm free." His grin grows to be just as wide as mine and I drop all my bags as we hug each other tightly. This is it. This is the future I was always headed towards. Gale was just a roadblock. But now I'm here.

So after, when he whispers, "You love me, real or not real?"

I tell him, "Real."

**Well there you go. A happy ending. And it's epilogue compliant, too. We hope you guys enjoyed reading this, and we're so glad you stuck around long enough to get here. Thanks a lot, and goodbye from both of us.**


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